


joining hands (and crossing our hearts)

by Issay



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Christmas, Early in Canon, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Emergency, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 16:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17083868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Issay/pseuds/Issay
Summary: It's Christmas - so of course they're in the ER again, because apparently that's tradition now. Or: how Danny got shot in the ass and found something very special.





	joining hands (and crossing our hearts)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [epochellipse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/epochellipse/gifts).



> Dear,  
> I've played with the prompt and my perpetually sleep-deprived brain came up with this. It's quite possible this fic kind of slipped out of my control... Oh, well. I hope you'll like it and I wish you the most lovely, peaceful Christmas season! <3

"You really can't blame this one on me, Danno."

"I can't... _I can't blame this on you_? Are you kidding me? Just watch me!"

Kahli was having a pretty enjoyable evening shift so far, really. Her blue scrubs looked nice and weren't covered in bodily fluids, cafeteria had the good kind of spaghetti on the menu, and Jimmy from neurology flirted with her in line to the coffee cart. And it was almost Christmas! Hawaii was always a great place to live - but on Christmas it was just _the best_. Kahli's mom was cooking. A lot.

Anyway, she was having a pretty good evening up until the point a call come in about a shooting downtown, an officer down, and that Five-0 was involved. Members of the special task force were frequent clients. Gunshot wounds, broken bones, head injuries, burns, detective Williams' bad knee... Every doctor and every nurse working in the ER had the pleasure at least once.

Members of Five-0 were the worst patients impossible.

Unless knocked out or bleeding profusely, they all shared the tendency to have their own opinion on the medical procedures required ( _"seriously, just slap a bandage on this, I'll be fine"_ ), avoided additional tests ( _"it's not broken, see? I can stand on it. I can even jump on i... ooops, no, wait, I can't. Whatever, just give me something for the pain and I'm good to go!”_ ), and all of them - and Kahli knows it from experience and stories alike - were escape artists. Not to mention their rather lax relationship with medical advice ( _"what do you mean: three weeks of cognitive rest? Oh, no. No. You see, I work with this Neanderthal, he can't stay without supervision for too long. The island wouldn't survive three weeks on its own with this guy running around, trust me"_ )...

Kahli and her colleagues usually just threw interns into the room, tasking them with making sure no escapes would happen.

Hawaii Five-0 versus Washington Memorial ER, 34-0 and counting.

The reason Kahli's evening was about to go to hell in a basket was the draw: every time a call came in that a someone from the task force of doom was coming in through the front door, everyone on call was pulling a stick out of a pineapple shaped container. Person who pulled the stick with a red dot on it got to be the primary victim.

Or, you know, the primary doctor on the case.

Kahli was in her third year of emergency medicine residency and seriously questioning her life choices so far.

With a resigned sigh she pulled privacy curtain away and looked at the scene. With some degree of relief Kahli noticed that commander McGarrett wasn't her patient this time, she was still mentally scarred after the previous encounter: he was standing next to the bed, arms crossed over his chest, facing the entryway so that he could protect his partner.

On the bed, face down and ass up in the air, was detective Williams.

"Gentlemen," she greeted them with a professional smile. "I'll extract the bullet, detective..."

"I know the drill, doc." Detective's voice was rather muffled by the pillow. "Just have at it, huh? This is doing things to my back. Not fun things, I'm telling you."

"I'll give you something for the pain in a moment," Kahli smiled and turned to the commander. "Sir, maybe it would be a good idea for you to go and get detective here some pants he could change into after we're done? I'm afraid I'll have to cut the ones he's wearing right now.”

"Listen to the doc, Steve," mumbled her patient, his face still obscured by the pillow. "Pants. Pants are nice."

"Sure," Steve carefully patted the detective's shoulder and looked back at Kahli. "I'll be right back."

As McGarrett left and the curtain was drawn again, she sat down with a stitch kit on a tray and syringe of local anesthetic.

"Well, the bullet only grazed you," she commented, snipping some fabric of the detective's pants away with scissors. "Do I even ask how did this happen?"

Danny turned his head sideways to look at her, for the first time since Kahli has entered the room.

"That mammoth of an idiot I'm working with barged into the suspect's house without canvassing it first. The perp's missus wasn't too happy about Steve trampling through her gardenias."

"This is going to sting a little... so the lady had a gun?"

"Yep, a tiny caliber, thank whatever God was listening at the time. I didn't even feel it until we booked the asshole. And then the bigger asshole insisted I ride in the ambulance."

Kahli chuckled a little.

"Well, I suppose blood isn't easy to clean and I've heard commander McGarrett is very protective of his car."

"It's my car! God damn it, now the entire island thinks it's his, doesn't it? No, don't answer that. Ugh, that's unpleasant."

"I'm almost done, detective. Ah, there it is." Kahli showed him the small piece of metal she had dug out of his muscle before putting it away and reaching for stitch kit. "And, you know, he's very protective of you, too."

"Overprotective, you mean. But yeah, the big dummy has his saving graces."

"Well, that's better to have someone like that in your life, detective. And with that, I'm done. Am I correct assuming you don't want medical leave, and you will have some help with changing the dressing?"

Danny, grunting a bit, turned to lay on his side and smiled at her.

"We've gotten all really predictable, haven't we, doc?"

"A little," Kahli nodded. "You know, we really don't like seeing you lot in here. But it's nice to see you have each other's backs, detective."

She left with a smile and passed Steve on her way out. He was carrying something that looked like an overnight bag, a bag from the hospital pharmacy, and a cup of coffee in a holder, and looked like a man on the mission. Well. Maybe he was.

Kahli laughed softly at the sound of loud argument that has started behind the privacy curtain.

*

It was the middle of the night and quiet in Steve's house was almost oppressive. Danny was downstairs on the couch - he fell asleep soon after dinner and McGarrett didn't have the heart to wake him up. Unfortunately, combination of pain and lack of usual background noise woke Danny up sometime after midnight. Steve could hear him shuffle around in the kitchen, getting a glass of water and opening a package of over the counter pain pills. He half expected Danny to turn the TV on but nothing of the sort happened, and now the silence was broken only by quiet groans of pain, muffled by something - probably a hand or a pillow. Danny probably thought that Steve was sound asleep and didn't want to wake him.

Steve was decidedly not asleep, his head too buzzing for him to get any kind of rest.

Eventually he got out of bed and walked down, careful to make noises - he didn't want to surprise Danny. This made him a little startled. Since when did he adjust normal, everyday actions for Danny?

For a very long time, he decided, reaching the couch and looking down at his partner.

"Get up," he said patiently when Danny ignored him. "I know you're not asleep, buddy. Come on."

Danny opened one eye.

"What do you want?" he asked grumpily, because he wouldn't be Danno if he wasn't grumpy when awake in the middle of the night. Steve rolled his eyes and helped Danny to carefully sit up - in an awkward, sideways manner.

"You can't sleep on the couch, Danno, face it - it hurts too much to sleep."

"I'm not kicking you out of your own bed," Danny sighed; they've had this discussion at least five hundred times already and he just wanted to get some rest. Sure, his back ached and his ass cheek hurt more than it should, and he was too warm, and too cold, and annoyed at the world at the same time. But some shuteye would be nice.

"We're big boys, we can share. Come on, up you go."

Danny, too exhausted to argue, allowed Steve to half drag him up the stairs - or rather Steve did the dragging, and Danny just focused on keeping the left side of his body as stiff as humanly possible, since even the tiniest twitch of the muscles in his leg or back caused the wound to pulse with sharp pain. After what felt like eternity, Danny was deposited on the bed, on his side, and he sighed with relief while burying his head in one of Steve's pillows.

"That's what I thought."

Danny chose to ignore his partner's self-satisfied tone of voice.

"I'm just glad Gracie isn't here to make fun of me..." he murmured. "At least something good came out of Rachel taking her to experience ' _the real Christmas magic of the Old World_ '."

Steve carefully sat down on the other side of the bed, back comfortably supported by pillows, and turned to look at Danny.

"Think you can fall asleep here, buddy?"

"Well, if you had a TV in here..." Corners of Danny's lips rose slightly.

"I can talk to you until you're out if you'd like."

Danny looked at Steve - really looked for the first time that evening. Stress lines on McGarrett's face were more pronounced, eyes a bit too sharp. The easy, laid back persona was gone, leaving the tired and stressed out man who was shifting uncomfortably next to Danny. It made something in his chest ache a little.

"You can tell me what was it back there, babe. You got a bit crazy when I got shot, you know. Freaked the paramedics out."

Steve was quiet for a long time - long enough that Danny was almost regretting saying anything. But eventually he sighed.

"You know you're my constant, right? First my dad, and then you. You're the one person, Danno, the one person who will always be here - unless some dick with a gun gets to you." Steve took a deep, shaky breath. He was carefully avoiding looking at Danny's face, preferring instead to stare at something over his shoulder. "I fall asleep and I get nightmares - about the day Hesse shot my dad, but then they turn, and instead of my dad it's you, and I'm in that Humvee on the phone listening to you die, and..."

"Steve. Steve, hey, I'm here," Danny grabbed Steve's hand and squeezed hard. "Breathe for me, okay? In, and hold, and out. Good, again. In, and hold, and out."

They were silent for a while, with Steve struggling to keep his breathing under control, and Danny cursing the injury with everything he had. Realizing he was still holding Steve's hand, he pulled on it a little.

"Come here, you big dummy. Don't look at me like that, come on."

Grudgingly, Steve moved to lie beside Danny, careful not to jostle him. He grunted in surprise when Danny pulled him into his arms, and holding until Steve's head was tucked against his chest, his beating heart just next to Steve's ear.

"Now listen to me, babe. I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me for the rest of your miserable, pineapple-riddled Christmases, and Easters, and Fourth of July's. And sure, I can't promise you that some shithead with a gun won't go after me but that's the line of work we're in. But I can promise you I'll do my damn best not to die on you, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay."

In the soft, comfortable silence that fell Steve's fingers found their way under Danny's shirt, pressing bruises into warm skin. Danny sighed with contentment, put his hand on the back of Steve's head and closed his eyes. The rest of this conversation could wait until morning. For now, they were fine.

"Hey, Danno?"

"Mhm?"

"Tomorrow I can install the TV in here," muttered Steve into the fabric, his breath deliciously hot on Danny's skin. "We can spend Christmas in bed, watching Band of Brothers. They get shot in the ass a lot too, you know."

Danny opened his eyes only to roll them with fondness, and pressed a kiss to Steve's head before closing them again.

"Go to sleep, Steve. Just...go to sleep."

He drifted away, more feeling than hearing Steve laugh.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the lovely "This love won't break your heart" by Annalise Emerick (it serves as a good soundtrack to this fic as well :))


End file.
